


On The Rise

by ThetaSigma



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, ineffable husbands, post armageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma
Summary: Aziraphale was fretting. He had been fretting for a good hour or so, ever since he’d emerged from Hell and sat down on the appointed bench to wait for Crowley. He rather thought he’d have been fretting regardless, but he was in a particular lather because he noticed he was wearing his own corporation, not Crowley’s.---Going to the park after their switch and failed executions, Crowley is unavoidably delayed. And that's just the beginning of the problem.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	On The Rise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tobeconspicuous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/gifts).



> For my dear friend [tobeconspicuous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous) partly for pointing me on the right path with this fic and mainly because she's my best friend and I love her dearly.

Aziraphale was fretting. He had  _ been _ fretting for a good hour or so, ever since he’d emerged from Hell and sat down on the appointed bench to wait for Crowley. He rather thought he’d have been fretting regardless, but he was in a particular lather because he noticed he was wearing his own corporation, not Crowley’s.

His mind was racing with questions.  _ Does this mean it didn’t work? Did Crowley  _ die _ up there? Did I save myself only to lose everything that made eternity worthwhile? Will I ever know? Will I just sit here, hour after hour after hour, wondering if the next person coming down the path is him, only to be disappointed? Will I ever dare move? _

He asked those questions, in various forms, for a solid thirty minutes before he added one more.  _ Do I dare pray to God to ask what happened? Do I dare draw Her attention to me, having tricked Heaven into surviving my execution?  _

In this jumble of panicked thoughts and questions, Aziraphale sat. Some people, when anxious, become fidgety, directing all their energy outwards, trying to shake off the excess. Aziraphale was the exact opposite. His panic led him to become catatonic, mainly because he no longer had the mental energy to exert his usual iron control over his corporation.

Indeed, several people passing by assumed he was some kind of statue. He got poked several times, which he didn’t notice.

Aziraphale finally decided he might as well pray to God.  _ After all, so what? I risk Her attention and wrath, but if it leads to my end… well, what does it matter with Crowley gone? But… what if he’s just delayed? Maybe Gabriel gave a far longer speech than Beelzebub. He would; he loves the sound of his own voice too much. Maybe Crowley’s just late because he had to suffer through ages of Gabriel’s posturing before the execution. Maybe he’ll come down the path just now... But maybe… oh, I  _ wish _ I knew what to do. _

And despite not really being present in his corporation, he saw Crowley sauntering down the path to him.

Aziraphale frowned. Crowley’s walk was… different. Still plenty of hip-swinging, plenty of saunter, plenty of cockiness, but it looked different. It no longer looked like someone who’d never understood the concept of legs but was required to have them anyway. 

“Hey, angel,” Crowley said, dropping onto the bench. “How was Hell?”

“Oh,  _ Crowley,” _ Aziraphale breathed, his voice shaky with tears. “I… you’ve been gone so long, I didn’t even know if you’d be coming back…” 

“Sorry, I got held up,” Crowley said soothingly.

“And then I realised I was in my own corporation and thought it meant you’d died, they’d succeeded.”

“I’m here, shhh, I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley and held him tight. “Don’t do that again, my love, please don’t. I can’t bear life without you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Crowley answered, hugging back just as tightly. “And I love you too, angel. Always have. Since I met you.”

Aziraphale loosened his grip slightly. “I want to kiss you. Desperately. Is that okay?”

“Angel, I’ve waited thousands of years to hear you say that. It’s more than okay. It’s… tickety-boo.”

“I knew people said that!” Aziraphale said triumphantly, forgetting the gravity of the moment for a second.

“They really don’t,” Crowley answered drily. “But yes, kiss me.”

Aziraphale leant forward, about to kiss Crowley --  _ finally, finally, _ both thought -- when he paused. “My dearest, I know why you wear them, but… for this, for this moment, for our first kiss… can you please take your sunglasses off? We can make everyone conveniently fail to notice, just… I want to see your eyes.”

“Anything, angel.” Crowley slipped his glasses off his face and was leaning in again when he heard Aziraphale gasp. “Angel?”

“Crowley… your eyes… they’re  _ blue,” _ Aziraphale stammered. “They’re dark blue!”

Crowley imagined, very strongly, that he’d carried a small compact with himself that day. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, opened it, and looked into his eyes in the mirror. His  _ non-reptilian _ eyes. He angled the mirror to and fro but couldn’t get the angle right.

“Angel,” Crowley said shakily. “Is the snake sigil still on my face? I can’t tell.”

Aziraphale gently turned Crowley’s head and swallowed. “It’s gone, Crowley.” He gave Crowley a searching look. “Why were you held up?”

“Not here,” Crowley said, suddenly realising they were in the middle of a park. With a thought, they were in his flat. He flopped into a sofa that hadn’t existed moments prior. 

“A little more warning next time,” Aziraphale said. “I hate travelling by thought. My stomach won’t be the same for days.” He shook his head to clear it. “I had thought you were held up by Gabriel. You know how he likes to pontificate.”

“Yeah, I do,” Crowley confirmed. “Always knew that, actually. Sa -- Go -- Ah fuck, he could go on and on. But no, he was very straightforward. ‘Shut your stupid mouth and die already’ was how he put it, I think. No, I was heading back to you and….” He froze. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

***

_ Before the park: _

Crowley, in Aziraphale’s body, left Heaven as casually as he could manage. Which was  _ very _ casually, thank you, he’d spent well over 6,000 years perfecting coolly casual. The hardest part was making it look like Aziraphale was being casual.

He was headed for the park, where he and Aziraphale would meet and swap bodies back. Then perhaps lunch and drinks and … well, the rest of eternity, spent together. An angel and a demon without a proper side.

He was riding down the escalator, seconds away from being back in London, when everything whited out. No walls, no floor, no ceiling, nothing. Just pure white as far as the eye could see.

The escalator was still there, bizarrely, and he could feel it moving, but it changed configuration on him. It was no longer going down, but up. And up, and up, and up, and up, and  _ up. _

He looked down at himself, ready to fussily adjust his waistcoat and cuffs, pure Aziraphale, when he realised in horror that he was suddenly himself again. Skinny as ever, with the outfit his corporation had been last wearing -- that Aziraphale was now wearing, on Crowley’s corporation. All that was missing were his sunglasses.

_ No, no, no, no, no, no, no, _ he pleaded with himself.  _ Don’t let them have caught on. Don’t let Aziraphale be in danger. _

He’d face the end with dignity just as long as Aziraphale was safe.

The escalator kept going up. Time didn’t seem to have any meaning, like he was stuck in between two seconds, but Crowley was very familiar with that. He could stop time, after all. But even still it felt like he’d been going up for at least an hour. Whatever an hour meant now, anyway.

And still the escalator kept going.

Since time had no meaning, Crowley had no idea how much of it had really passed, but it felt like goddamn forever.

He wondered, idly, if this was his punishment. Having survived -- having  _ tricked _ their way out of -- execution, this was their punishment. An eternity between two seconds riding an escalator to nowhere with nothing to look at. Just his thoughts to keep him company.

“Raphael,” a voice boomed out, filling the absolute nothing completely. “Raphael…”

Crowley knew that voice. It had been eons since he’d heard it last, but it wasn’t one he could ever  _ forget. _ “It’s Crowley,” he said impatiently. 

“Oh, Raphael. Are you sure about that? Do you really think I don’t know the name I gave to my child?”

“You also kicked me out, so thanks, but it’s Crowley.”

There was a deep, slightly impatient sigh. “Fine,  _ Crowley. _ Although really, I think Raphael suited you much better.”

“Thought so too, ta, but apparently all those  _ questions _ didn’t suit  _ you.” _

God didn’t say anything for a bit. Crowley wondered if he’d managed to piss Her off  _ again, _ then wondered if he cared. Then he realised God was omniscient so She’d know what happened to Aziraphale. “Where’s Aziraphale? Is he okay? Did he survive?” Crowley called out into the blank nothingness.

“Oh, of course he did. Asked Beelzebub for a rubber duckie and made Michael miracle him a bath towel.”

Crowley nearly slumped in relief. If his punishment was to be eternally riding an escalator while chatting with God, he’d bear it so long as Aziraphale was safe. Unless… “And he’s not on some infernal escalator going downwards, is he? Chatting with Satan?”

He could  _ hear _ God rolling Her eyes. “I’m not punishing you, Raphael.”

“Crowley,” Crowley corrected automatically. Then the rest of the sentence registered. “Wait, you’re not? But I’ve tricked Heaven and Hell with Aziraphale’s help, prevented Armageddon, and I’m…”

“You tricked some nitwit angels, that’s hardly impressive,” God said with a derisive laugh. “And of course you prevented Armageddon. That’s what your entire job  _ was. _ You did everything as you were supposed to, you and Aziraphale. And now,  _ Raphael, _ it’s time for your reward.”

Crowley was never stupid. He was neither slow on the uptake nor lacking in knowledge, although only the former was important here. He connected the dots quickly. An ascending staircase, a chat with God, the repetition of his former name, a  _ reward? _ “Don’t you  _ dare,” _ he hissed. “Don’t you  _ fucking dare.” _

“Don’t you want to come back, Raphael?”

_ “Crowley,” _ the demon growled angrily. “It’s. Still. Crowley. And no, I don’t, thank you very much. You cast me out! You threw me into the pits of  _ Hell, _ and now that I’ve been a good little servant, now that I’ve served your higher  _ fucking _ purpose, now that I’ve saved your precious Earth and your precious angel, you’ll let me back in? Well, guess what, God, I didn’t do it for you. Not one bit of it. I saved Earth because I like it there, I saved Aziraphale because I love him. Nothing I’ve done on Earth has been for you, and very little of it in your name! So take your fucking reward and shove it.”

“For such a smart creature, you really are slow, aren’t you?” God said pityingly. “Of course I cast you out. Do you think you and Aziraphale could have averted Armageddon if you’d both been angels? No inside line on Hell’s machinations? I needed you in Hell.”

Crowley aimed a fierce scowl upwards. “Fuck. You,” he spat venomously. “Couldn’t even let me know that? Couldn’t say ‘Hey there, quick thing, need some undercover work for, ohhhh, six thousand years, give or take, need you to be a demon for that time, think you can handle it?’”

“And would you have tempted Aziraphale during those six thousand years if you’d known you’d be let back in? Would you have spent so much time showing him Heaven wasn’t worth his devotion? Which, as you must have realised, is what led him to participate in the plan to stop the madness.”

Crowley knew that he wouldn’t have. He had known for eons that he had been gradually tempting Aziraphale into thinking for himself  _ because _ he’d been so disillusioned. But the sheer pain of his Fall was well past logic. “Why me?” he asked.

“Because not only are you not evil, you’re  _ good,” _ God said placidly. “It’s not like I had very many creations like that to choose from. There was… well. You. And Aziraphale. And I needed Aziraphale’s particular brand of stubbornness in Heaven. Which left… hang on, let me check…  _ you.” _

“What about the rest of your  _ precious _ angels? None of them good enough for you?”

God sighed sadly. “Not a blessed one. Who was most upset about the Flood, Crowley? It wasn’t Gabriel, or Michael, or Sandolphon….”

“Oh, very nice, testing if I was a good choice by wiping out thousands of humans! The  _ children! _ You can’t kill children!”

“I  _ didn’t,” _ God snapped. “I haven’t left Michael in charge since that day. I took  _ one _ vacation to find out Michael flooded Earth!”

“And yet, you created us all. What does it say about you that even your thrice-blessed angels are more evil than a demon?”

“Free will was a mistake?” God offered. “Actually, still not sure I believe in that one. I gave  _ all _ of you free will, which unfortunately does also include it in a moral sense. And casting all of them into Hell except for you and Aziraphale would have solved nothing, before you ask. At least this way those who thought -- in the broadest sense -- similarly got grouped together. I’m not saying it was perfect.”

“I don’t want back in,” Crowley said, returning to their earlier topic of conversation. He didn’t know how to explain that, at this point, the Fall and his demonhood were very much a part of him. 

God knew anyway. Of course She did. “I think you’ll find they’re much less a part of you than you think. Also, it doesn’t really matter, because you’ve Risen while you were, well, literally rising. Neat, isn’t it?” It was clear from Her tone that She was beaming. “We’re about done.”

And indeed, Crowley could see the end of the escalator suddenly. It was close and very solid-looking, leading to a very solid-looking door. Somehow, he knew that on the other side of the door was London, even if he’d been travelling in the opposite direction for… well, time was meaningless here. And, technically, so was space.

Crowley reached the top of the escalator and moved to step off. “Welcome back, Archangel Raphael, and thank you for your most  _ Heavenly _ work,” God said, more formally than She usually was wont to.

Crowley slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, pleased to find he had sunglasses there. Whether that was his doing or God’s, he wasn’t sure. He slid the glasses on and said, “It’s still Crowley. Bye!”

He flung open the door and walked out, the encounter already taking on a dream-like quality in his mind.

***

_ Back in Crowley’s flat: _

“Crowley? Crowley, please, it can’t be that bad,” Aziraphale begged. “Please tell me what happened. We’ve already faced the worst Heaven and Hell could throw at us…”

“I don’t want it,” Crowley said nonsensically. “Not this. I was  _ fine. _ I was! I was a demon but I was  _ fine, _ I had Earth, I had  _ you, _ I didn’t ask for this!”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Aziraphale said soothingly. “Could you tell me specifically  _ what _ you didn’t ask for?”

Crowley floundered for the words again. His Fall had hurt, hurt insensibly and traumatically, but he’d walked out of it and come into himself. To have it undone not only hurt in this moment, but made every single moment he’d been Fallen hurt worse.

Finally, unable to simply say it, he untucked his wings from the ethereal plane and hoped that would answer the question. He assumed they’d be white again.

They were.

Aziraphale gasped. “Crowley?” he said hesitantly. “Did you… is this… are you…” He couldn’t voice the thought either.

Somehow, Aziraphale’s inability to do so made Crowley able to talk again. Wasn’t that always the way? When Aziraphale floundered, Crowley was there.

“I… I think the word for it is  _ Rose, _ angel,” he whispered. “I was getting out of Heaven, about to be at the entrance to London…. Was going to meet you in the park. And everything turned white and the escalator turned into an upwards one. God spoke to me.”

“What did she say?” Aziraphale asked equally softly.

“That I played my part to perfection,” Crowley said bitterly. “That she needed me in Hell to thwart the End of Times and she needed me to be unaware. And now that we did it, I can come back. My  _ reward.” _

Aziraphale didn’t say anything for a moment. He considered how hard it must have been to Fall from Grace like that, and how much it would have hurt to know that your worst sin was being inquisitive. He considered how he’d feel if he’d been told it had all been some plan and he was let back in. 

And Aziraphale got  _ angry. _ Properly, truly, viciously angry, because Crowley had always been the best being he’d known, the kindest and loveliest and best, and this didn’t seem like a reward. It was cruel.

“Oh, my dear,” he breathed. “Oh, Crowley.” He wrapped his arms around Crowley and held tightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into Crowley’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“I told her to get fucked,” Crowley admitted. “Told her I didn’t want it.” He laughed humourlessly. “She told me I didn’t have a choice. I’d already Risen.”

Aziraphale wondered if God had tried to give Crowley his original name back. He rather thought Crowley would reject that. After all, Crowley had chosen his name and was fond of it.

Aziraphale also wondered what Crowley’s original name, as an angel, had been. He had never asked. It hadn’t seemed appropriate.

It seemed even less so now.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“This doesn’t have to change anything, does it?” Aziraphale asked.

“I hope not,” Crowley said darkly. “After all this, I think we’ve earned our retirement. I wonder if I’d still find fun in causing low-level mischief.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I rather think you would, my dear. I don’t think that was ever very demonic of you. Swapping labels on things or gluing pound coins to the pavement, you just told Hell it was about causing some ‘taint’. But I don’t think it really did, do you?”

Crowley shook his head. “Nah. Those who were going to Hell were going to go regardless of how well or poorly they handled a pound coin they couldn’t pick up. And the other way around, too.”

He stretched. “I’m beat,” he said. “This has been… a  _ day. _ This isn’t how I imagined any of this… but I think I need a nap.”

“Lie down, darling, I’ll stay with you,” Aziraphale said immediately. Crowley, with a thought, changed himself into pajamas.

Sleek and black, because his style choices hadn’t changed with his Rising. Both of them were comforted by that.

“Tell me what you  _ did _ imagine, when you thought of how the rest of the day would go,” Aziraphale asked.

“There’d be fucking at some point,” Crowley mumbled, half-asleep. “I have wanted to taste your cock for something like 5000 years.”

Aziraphale squirmed as arousal curled low in his belly. He cleared his throat. “Don’t sleep too long,” he begged. “I don’t think I want to wait several weeks to find out what that’s like.”

“Wake me if it’s been more than 24 hours,” Crowley managed to say before dropping into sleep.

Aziraphale desperately wanted to press a kiss to his forehead, but realised they never  _ had _ kissed, not with Crowley’s revelation. He didn’t want the first time his lips touched any part of Crowley to be with Crowley asleep.

So he held back, sat on the bed, and stroked Crowley’s hair. Eventually, he summoned a book to him with some concentration. There would be time later for discovering each other in new ways. 

For now, they both had rest to get, in their own way.

***

Aziraphale had resolved to let Crowley sleep as many as 72 hours before waking him. Crowley had brought himself to the absolute brink during the great showdown, stopping time and facing down Satan.

The decision was taken out of his hands by a  _ loud _ pounding on the front door. Aziraphale tutted and hurried to the door, determined to send the persistent knocker away and make sure Crowley stayed asleep. Honestly, people today had no manners.

He flung open the door, ready to whisper-shout them into silence, and froze.

Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel stood in the doorway.

Gabriel gave him as hollow a smile as always. “Aziraphale, so glad to see you again! Sorry about the whole execution business,” he boomed.

Aziraphale winced. Crowley would  _ definitely _ hear that. “Yes, well, you said you’d leave us alone, and it’s not even been 24 hours. I don’t want you here.”

“We’re not here for  _ you,” _ Uriel sneered. 

Michael said, in a particularly aloof tone, “We’re here for the Archangel Raphael, obviously.”

Aziraphale froze in shock.  _ Raphael? _ The  _ Archangel _ Raphael? Crowley had been one of the Archangels before God’s twisted machinations led to his Fall? 

“Oh, did he not tell you who he used to be? Now. Do be a dear and fetch him.”

_ “Dogs _ fetch,” Aziraphale said stonily. 

“Why do you think we asked you?” Michael said with a saccharine smile. Aziraphale had never been tempted to smite anyone before, but he was rapidly getting there with Michael.

“The only people in this flat,” Aziraphale said, his voice so cold it was sub-Arctic, “are me and Crowley. And he’s sleeping, so all of you can  _ fuck off.” _

“Not anymore, I’m not,” a voice grumbled. Aziraphale turned to watch Crowley come down the hall. 

His glasses were off, obviously, and Aziraphale found that his dark blue eyes were disconcerting. He was so used to the amber, the slitted pupils, they had been  _ beloved. _ To find that they were now standard angel eyes… it felt like part of Crowley was missing.

Crowley stood in the doorway behind Aziraphale, blocking the way in further. “I don’t want to see any of you,” he said flatly.

“Raphael,” Gabriel greeted. His tone was warmer than Aziraphale had ever heard directed at him.

“It’s Crowley,” Crowley said shortly. “Let me make something  _ very _ clear, Archangel  _ Fucking _ Gabriel,” he said, and missed the hiss in his voice that made him sound particularly menacing. “I don’t answer to you. The best thing about Hell? Not having  _ you _ around. And I thought that  _ before _ you hurt my angel. Get. Out.”

“You have  _ duties, _ Raphael,” Michael chided.

Crowley stared at her -- and missed his reptilian eyes, which he knew flustered most angels. He gave a predatory smile and wondered if he still had (or could produce) fangs. “Not to you and not to God. Go away.”

“You’ll tire of him soon,” Uriel snapped. “A useless little lapdog of an angel with some decidedly unangelic tendencies. Unless you were  _ planning _ on keeping him as a pet.”

“I am  _ right here!” _ Aziraphale protested. 

No one heard him because Crowley had squeezed by him and grabbed Uriel by the throat. “This is your last warning,” he rumbled, his voice deepening into divine wrath. He turned and fixed Michael, then Gabriel, with a murderous look. “Have you all forgotten Before so quickly? None of you could do what I did, not one of you had the imagination or power. I had limited patience for your shit  _ then. _ Now? Now you are looking at a being who spent millennia in Hell. Go on. Test your luck. You think I can’t or won’t rip your heads off? You think I don’t have ways to extinguish angels in my flat?”

Uriel quaked in Crowley’s grip. Their eyes darted around, looking for these ways.

“Let’s make something  _ very _ clear,” Crowley spat. “I’m not skipping back up to Heaven to help you with the Heavenly duties. I’m staying right here, with Aziraphale, and if any of you come near enough to say  _ anything _ to either of us, I will destroy you.”

He let go of Uriel, who scrambled back to their feet. The angels, looking distinctly uncomfortable, vanished.

Crowley dusted his hands and turned to Aziraphale. “You okay?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been Raphael?”

Crowley shrugged. “Because I wasn’t when you met me, and I’m not Raphael now. As I keep  _ saying, _ my name is Crowley.”

“It was just a bit of a shock,” Aziraphale said. And yet, Aziraphale knew he had always known Crowley hadn’t been some garden-variety angel. Hadn’t he spoken of the stars he’d made, the nebulae he’d spun? The most influence Aziraphale had had on creation was songbirds, and even that was with the help of several others. He still thought they’d gone far too high on the volume on those things, but none of the other angels had wanted to hear it.

Crowley had, single-handedly, created stars. 

Aziraphale fought the resentment that showed up in him at that thought. He did not want to confront the thought he’d had for many, many years that their status quo had meant he could still feel superior. Sure, he hadn’t been -- still wasn’t -- an Archangel, but he’d been  _ an _ angel, and Crowley had been a demon. 

It was exceptionally petty of him to resent it now that Crowley was an angel again.

Aziraphale wanted to tuck away his resentment to examine later -- hopefully never -- and focus on the surprising visit from the other Archangels. But the doubt and resentment in his head was too loud.

_ What is he doing with you? _ a little voice piped up in his head.  _ He created stars. Weren’t you around just for a taste of divinity? Some of what he lost? You’re beneath him now. He doesn’t need you anymore. Isn’t that what Uriel just said? You’re his lapdog now. _

Angrily, Aziraphale told the voice in his head to get stuffed.  _ No! _ he thought, having an argument with himself.  _ He loves me for me. Not for whether or not I could create a star! _

_ You’re a sad little Principality. He’s an Archangel. You were just about on the same level when he was a demon… but not really, right? Because he could stop time and sense you in danger and whisk himself there in moments, and you… oh, let’s be real here. You never received a ‘rude memo’ about your miracles. You just can’t wish yourself across the Channel with a thought. Not like he could. Is that envy? Envy of the power he wields? _

_ It’s not, it’s not, it’s not, _ Aziraphale chanted mentally. 

“I can  _ hear _ you thinking,” Crowley said, leaning in. “I don’t know  _ what, _ but tell me whatever panic-driven thought is circling around there so I can debunk it and go back to bed. Or so we can finally talk about  _ us.” _

Aziraphale’s voice, when he managed to put his thoughts into words, was small and unsure. “I didn’t know you were an Archangel before you Fell,” he said hesitantly. “And… Crowley, I’m not.” He left rather a lot unsaid, but he could see from Crowley’s face that he’d connected the dots himself. Well, no one had ever said Crowley was stupid.

Crowley scoffed derisively. “I don’t care. You think I cared about being a fucking Archangel? If anything, it meant more time listening to Gabriel and the other asswipes. Angel, all I care about, all I  _ ever _ cared about, when it came to your angelic status was that it made you immortal. I would never have to say goodbye. Beyond that? You could be one of the disposable demons and I would love you as fiercely as I always have.”

It wasn’t so much the words of love that hit Aziraphale. It was Crowley’s tone -- perfectly dismissive of such a  _ stupid _ worry -- that helped dissipate his anxieties. He smiled weakly at Crowley. “My love, I’m sorry,” he said. “I… It’s something I’d never really dealt with.” He laughed mirthlessly. “It’s like I always knew but also refused to know.”

Crowley held him close. “I don’t think rank means anything here, angel. Do you think those pricks are better than you because they’re higher up on the hierarchy?”

“Not after the way they just treated us. Not for a long time now,” Aziraphale said. 

“There you go. Anyway, they’re meaningless titles now, aren’t they? We aren’t on their books. I made damn sure of that just now.” He smiled softly at Aziraphale. “I have an idea, angel. How about we don’t think of this as Archangel Raphael and Principality Aziraphale? How about it’s just Crowley and Aziraphale, same as we’ve always been?”

“I’d like that, love,” Aziraphale whispered. “And I’d really like to kiss you now.”

“Finally,” Crowley moaned. 

And when they kissed, they both saw stars. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen -- and [written!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385201) fics where Aziraphale falls, but I hadn't ever seen one where the opposite happens and Crowley becomes an angel again. And then I _really_ wanted to write one but didn't want it to be a GOOD thing for Crowley.   
> May one day get a sequel; I've got some ideas for it.


End file.
